


Hearth Light

by SnowMercury



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Angst, F/F, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22242454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowMercury/pseuds/SnowMercury
Summary: Hollyleaf has known many different kinds of light in her life.
Relationships: Hollyleaf/Willowshine
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Hearth Light

Hollypaw looked out over the gathering, searching. She kept turning until she saw who she was looking for, and all at once the happiness in her bubbled up to the top, showing in her smile and delighted  _ Oh! _ , moments before she sprang into action. The moonlight drifted through the branches overhead, dappling the cats below as Hollypaw dodged through and around them, not noticing as she interrupted conversations and turned heads. 

“Willowpaw!” The cat of her focus only twitched her ear in response, before looking slightly cross, like she hadn’t intended to do even that. Holly didn’t notice, skidding to a stop in front of Willowpaw, miscalculating and bumping into the other apprentice, quickly righting herself. Willow, despite trying to hold back her laughter, had a few laughs escape as she looked up at Holly, one paw held up to hide her mouth. It didn’t last long, a downcast turn to Willow’s eyes finally being noticed by Holly. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Holly’s question brings a hard look to Willow as she stiffens, tail flicking once as she looks away from Holly. 

“You know what’s wrong, Hollypaw.” 

A pause. “Is this about me walking a different path, now?”

“You make it sound so simple. A different path, one that means we won’t see each other each moon. One that I had to learn you chose from your aunt. One that means- that things are  _ different _ now.” Hollypaw, still standing, takes a step back. She’s still gazing towards Willowpaw, looking for something in the other’s expression. 

“Do they have to be?” At this, Willowpaw scoffs, but its a sad little sound, small and watery. “We still have the gathering…”

“If you think that’s the only thing keeping things from being the same, maybe I overestimated you. Goodbye, Hollypaw. Good luck.” She stands up, and walks away steadily, still not looking back to Hollypaw. Holly watches her go, tail drifting slowly to the grass below, going almost limp as she starts to feel gravity once again. 

—-

It’s sunlight this time, dappling through the branches. Hollypaw is now Hollyleaf, a warrior in her own right- dashing through the undergrowth, dodging twigs in the focus on her prey. Her focus is such a taut string, holding her to her task, that the moment something enters her line of sight she startles- and watches the moth drift lazily on the wind, fluttering to the closest overhanging tree branch. Disheveled, breathing heavily, and in an altogether unkempt position, Hollyleaf starts to sort herself out while watching the bug. 

She lifts one paw to her mouth, licking it and drawing it back over her ear, closing her eyes and settling her fur back down. After another moment of washing, she opens her eyes again to look up at the moth- and freezes mid-lick. 

There are two moths up there now. One, a mottled grey and black, and the other dark as night with red stripes at the edge of their wings. She finds her thoughts starting to drift in a direction she hasn’t let them drift in moons, and she mentally slams that thought into the forest floor in front of her. (At least she is capturing some kind of prey today.)

After another few moments, she is out of sight of the moths, back on the hunt. 

  
  


—-

  
  


Firelight, different than sunlight or starlight or moonlight, flickers. It illuminates, brings to the front burnt secrets, charred skeletons hidden in collapsed closets. It tears apart bonds and leaves only ash feeling satisfied afterwards. It severs families. 

Hollyleaf had never known this conflict before. (No, she had.) The code was how to live a good life, how to be a  _ good warrior _ . (If that was the path her paws walked.) If she was the product of a broken code, of a torn family (and how old was Breezepelt?), of secrets and conspiracies and hidden feelings and  _ running away together, of looking up at the moon and leaning down to the water, feeling the cold on her nose as she looked across her own reflection to see- _

Maybe it just ran in her blood. 

Maybe she was destined to be torn up,  _ wrong _ , maybe if  _ they _ hadn’t broken the code she would be fine. Maybe her thoughts wouldn’t keep drifting. Maybe she would be a warrior, unburdened- living in Windclan, maybe, in a wholly uncomplicated family, maybe, with no thoughts of algae and reflections and the moon and the scent of cattails and wet fur and-

Maybe she would be uncomplicated. Maybe she would know where to go, what to do next. 

Maybe she wouldn’t feel this itch under her coat, this fear tingling in her toes, this smoky smell lingering on her singed pelt. Ash permeated her fur, clumped uncomfortably. What was she to do but wash it off?

—-

Absence of light is not light, but darkness was somehow still as bright as anything else she had encountered. It glared at her, her with her scars and injuries and ragged fur, her with her limp and aching head. It was comforting, but still left something to be desired. She wished she could say the darkness was warm to her, but it was cold, and lonely- good to rest, but to stay? Not if she wanted comfort. 

It was a good thing she wasn’t looking for comfort. She had bones to reset, injuries to clean, scars she had to wait to fade. Actions she needed to reassess. And as much as the darkness glared, it wasn’t an audience. It glared closely, both at her and others equally- glared like someone looking petulantly at a crowd, at the whole, not the individual. There was anonymity in the crowd. 

Maybe she didn’t want to be anonymous anymore. Hollyleaf was tired of being singled out, of being alone. Not one of the prophecy, not one of the family, not one of the clan, not one of the innocent- excluded, always, it seemed. And at this one time, she was marginally thankful for it. She had issues to work out. 

  
  


—-

Light from home is, perhaps, the most warming of all. They say home is where the heart is- and Hollyleaf, walking into the Gathering, crosses this off as true as she sees Willowshine. Willowshine is sitting by the other medicine cats, peering over the crowd already there, looking towards the entrance to the gathering area, and this time she is the one to immediately brighten up and spring forward through the crowd. Hollyleaf still feels happy to see her, of course, but thawing out is a long process and easy to stutter during. 

Willowshine is the one to interrupt conversations now. Willowshine is the one to turn heads and attract glares for not being considerate in her haste to greet her focus. But Willowshine doesn’t bump into Hollyleaf; no, she slows a few tail-lengths away, hesitant in her final steps. Hollyleaf meets her halfway, smiling. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Willowshine says, meeting Hollyleaf’s gaze- not in a challenge but softly, phrases going unsaid. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve had time to think about what happened.” Hollyleaf replies, eyes turning questioning, prodding, pleading. “What made you change your mind?”

Willowshine smiles, leaning forward. “It’s been changing for a long time now. I just needed to realize it.”

Hollyleaf melts, not like wax to a wick, but like one does returning to a place of comfort after a long day at work. Falling into soft, gentle light. “Then apology accepted.” She touches her nose to Willowshine’s, both of them simultaneously moving forward to fold their heads around each other, hiding each others’ face. 

They didn’t need to see the other’s expression to feel the warmth. 


End file.
